


Runner-Up

by irithyll



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-RE6, Shameless Smut, no beta we die like men, thanks i hate it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 11:30:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18637249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irithyll/pseuds/irithyll
Summary: It had always been like this - an unexpected rapping at her door, the stale taste of vodka on his tongue, and an empty bed the morning after. Claire Redfield was used to being second best and had accepted that, as long as Ada Wong existed, this was how it would always be.





	Runner-Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Xaori](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xaori/gifts).



It was always like this - anxious, hesitant, thready rapping at her door in the midst of the night. The sound was as iconic as the beginning notes to her favorite song, so familiar that she never once doubted who lingered on the opposite side of the door even as she undid the latches intended to keep her safe. Chris would have scolded her, his anger manifested in the form of a rant about murder and rape statistics in the city, but knowing such never stopped her.

Was it considered self-sabotage to willingly let the monster out of the closet?

She could have pictured the image before her with her eyes closed, but, even now, the sight never failed to wind her.

He was beautiful, really. Painfully beautiful as he leaned against her door frame with that sad, sullen look in his eyes. Those perfectly arched lips of his always seemed to be pulled into a pout, but she had come to learn that Leon S. Kennedy didn’t randomly show up at her doorstep unannounced unless some form of tragedy had stricken him.

“Leon.” 

She addressed him quietly, tilting her head to the side in an unspoken question as she offered him a small smile if only to be polite. When they were younger, she’d prettily tie herself up in intricate lingerie before climbing into bed, always giddy with the hope that it’d be one of those nights. More often than not, those nights never happened, and she’d wake up feeling nauseated with shame over her pining.

Nowadays, she wasn’t nearly as desperate - at least, that’s what she told herself as she stood before him with her tousled hair and mismatched pajamas. 

“Claire.” 

His voice was hoarse, soft like an apology as he wavered on his feet. One of his hands rose to grip the door frame and he stepped through into the threshold of her apartment, allowing her to breathe in the scent of liquor and the peppermints he had downed on the way over in a futile attempt to hide what he’d been drinking.

He was standing so close to her, close enough for her to make out the fine peppering of stubble that had broken out along the chiseled surfaces of his cheeks. It wasn’t much like him to be so unkempt, to meander about with mussed hair and alcohol on his breath.

Though, honestly, it’s not like he was interested in impressing her. She was only Claire Redfield.

She stepped aside to close the door behind him and gestured towards the sofa nearby, but didn’t find herself surprised when he ambled past it. Using the furniture along the way as his guide, he stumbled his way into her bedroom with a familiar, drunken staccato she had known all too well.

Claire told herself that she wasn’t forcing a purposeful sway to her hips as she followed him and that the reason that she didn’t bother to pull down the edges of her yoga shorts for modesty’s sake was because they would have just ridden back up anyway. There wasn’t any point in adjusting the low cut neckline of her v-neck because he was too drunk to remember it anyway, right?

She watched him collapse face-down onto the bed, legs overhanging the edge with his feet nearly hitting the floor. He remained like that, threatening to slide off the foot of the bed as he allowed his weight to settle against the soft mattress, and Claire let out a sigh. She moved over to him and locked her arm beneath his armpit, tugging roughly to force him upwards a few inches.

“Are you going to help me or not?” She asked, annoyance in her voice.

Leon groaned and repositioned, bringing himself into the bed more properly. Rolling over to face her, he gave her a glimpse of those sapphire eyes as they glistened with regret.

“I’m sorry, Claire.”

She said nothing as she climbed into the opposite side of the bed, turning towards the wall. Chris had mentioned seeing Leon in Lanshiang, but she never bothered to ask for more details. After all, it wasn’t like she cared about him or anything. They had survived Raccoon City together and promptly parted ways, only seeing each other every now and then on the holidays or when he decided to drink himself into a stupor.

He never came to see her when he was sober, so it’s not like he cared about her either. Her apartment was probably the closest to his favorite bar, simple as that. There was nothing more to it. She told herself this even as his warm palm snaked over the length of her side, following the dip of her waist and the flare of her hip.

“Leon.”

It was meant to sound like a warning, but part of her feared that it sounded more like a plea.

“We’re getting old,” He spoke, voice deep and mumbled, “But you’re still as pretty as you were back in Raccoon.”

She rolled her eyes at the comment and denied feeling heat burn at her cheeks.

“And you’re just becoming a grumpy, drunk old man.” She quipped, placing her hand over his.

They laid like that for a while, bodies close as they shared silence. It was one of the few things she still enjoyed about him, the way they could comfortably share a silence without feeling compelled to speak to one another. Half of her expected to hear his breathing level out as he fell into a deep sleep, but the rest of her was surprised by the wander of his hand beneath the waistband of her shorts.

“I might be old, but I still know how to have fun.” He murmured in her ear now, voice hot and moist as it fanned over the sensitive shell of her ear.

Claire shuddered against him and he let out a laugh, a sound so deep that she could feel the rumble of his chest against her back. She let her eyes flutter closed as she focused on the press of his hard body against hers and found that it was exactly the same as she remembered it, even after the years that had gone by.

“Shouldn’t you save up that energy for Ada?” She asked spitefully, not particularly caring if it came off as petty. 

Claire might have been pretty, but she was no Ada Wong. Ada was elegant and feminine, beautiful and always perfectly put together no matter the circumstances. Claire wasn’t beautiful. Claire was only pretty when it became convenient. 

She felt his demeanor change without having to see his face. The air grew heavy and the slow, careful tease of his fingertips tracing shapes against the tender flesh of her lower belly came to a halt.

“Ada…” She strained to make out his words as he spoke, voice wet and deep and miserable, “Ada’s dead.”

So that’s what the impromptu visit was all about. Claire hated herself for not kicking him out of her bed right then, and she abhorred herself for feeling an ill-placed sense of relief bubble up within her. Since when did she wish death upon people?

Without warning, his hand dipped lower beneath the fabric to cup her in his palm. The heat and wetness of her was enough to make him groan and he wasted no time in slipping a finger inside of her.

Claire gasped at the sudden intrusion, hips shifting on their own accord to allow his digit to penetrate her more deeply. It had been a while since she’d been intimate, the last time being…

...the last time he was drunk enough to remember her address. God damn, she fucking hated herself.

“As tight and wet as ever.” He murmured against her ear, a chuckle rumbling in his chest.

Claire wanted to elbow him in the face, to kick him out of her apartment and let him know that she wasn’t the same, desperate young woman she had once been. Working for Terrasave had helped her grow up and, honestly, she didn’t need him anymore.

But the way he stretched her as he added a second finger was so good and she felt a whimper begin to form in the back of her throat. She swallowed it and moved her hips, purposefully this time, to drive herself along the length of his fingers.

“Fuck, Claire…”

Yeah, she was Claire and it was her that he was fingerfucking, not Ada Wong.

Claire let out a soft moan as she rolled her hips and Leon slipped his other hand beneath her to trail his palm along the flat of her belly. His calloused hand ghosted along her ribs and to the center of her torso, creeping upwards to find the swells of her naked breasts.

He palmed her for a while, alternating kneading each breast in his hand as he pumped his fingers in and out of her. Her breasts felt impossibly heavy and achy as a result of his ministrations and she arched her back, pressing the weight of them more firmly in his hand as she brushed the curve of her ass against his groin.

Leon grunted and the sound only inspired her to repeat her movement. With small, careful rolls of her hips, she began to rub against his length, unable to hold back a triumphant grin as she felt him harden against her. He shifted his hand to brush the pad of his thumb against the tip of her stiffened nipple, earning a breathy gasp from her.

With his middle finger still buried deep within her heat, he maneuvered his other finger expertly to find her slick, swollen nub. Claire bit her lower lip in anticipation of what was to come, but couldn’t suppress the mewl that tore from her throat when he began to move, relentlessly rubbing her aching clit as he worked her nipple between his fingers.

“L-leon, I…”

“Shh.”

He pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses along the line of her neck, occasionally alternating with nips of his teeth. Claire felt the heat low in her belly burst into flame, pinpricks of white forming in her vision. She clenched her teeth together tightly, eyes held shut as she tried to distract herself from the friction between her legs and the aching in her breasts.

He was having none of it. Picking up the pace, he worked her sensitive body as though he owned it, thrusting his hips back against hers as she grinded against him. Claire let out a soft whimper and he nuzzled the back of her neck as he coaxed her into orgasm with his hands.

Her body trembled and spasmed in his grasp and he murmured low and soft in her ear as she coasted through her orgasm. When she collapsed back against him, he smiled against her shoulder, appreciative of the fact that she was just as he had remembered her.

He pulled her against him more fully and embraced her for a moment, breathing in the soft, floral scent of her shampoo before flipping her onto her back. With each leg on either side of her hips, he straddled her, his light hair falling into his eyes as he took in the sight of her beneath him with her shirt pulled up to her clavicles and her shorts riding low on her hips.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty.” He groaned, leaning forward to catch her lips with his.

Claire drew back slightly, expression hard as she stared into his eyes, their lips just barely apart.

“You know I’m not Ada, right?”

It was childish, so fucking childish, but she couldn’t keep it to herself.

Leon only smiled, all perfect teeth and his stupid fucking dimples.

“I know, Claire.”

He kissed her hard and deep, wasting no time at slipping his tongue between her lips to taste her more intimately. She kissed him back with just as much desperation, whimpering into his mouth as she took his face in her hands.

When he broke off the kiss, his lips never left her skin. Instead, he allowed them to trail along her chin and the underside of her jaw, along the length of her neck and the smooth plane of her sternum.

She inhaled sharply when the soft flesh of his lips ghosted over her nipple and he took it into his mouth greedily, alternating swirling his tongue around the peak and dragging his lips in a gentle suckle. Claire’s hips instinctively thrust upwards against him and she tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer to her chest.

His free hand came upwards to knead her opposite breast and she mewled, head thrown back against the pillow as he worked her body with his hands and mouth. 

Leon pulled back and she grabbed the front of his thighs with her hands, mind hazy with lust and desperate for any semblance of contact with his body that she could manage. With one fell movement, he seized the hem of his shirt in his hands and pulled it off, tossing it onto the floor.

His body was perfection as it always had been. Even with age, Leon had maintained his body, retaining each and every chiseled ridge of muscle that she had appreciated a thousand times over in their youth. 

Claire wasted no time in exploring his body with her hands and, as she attempted to sit up, he pressed her shoulders back gently, holding her to the bed.

“It’s my turn to apologize, Claire.” 

His words were striking and she fumbled for a response, but her attempt died quickly when he began to tug at her shorts. He peeled them off her with ease, letting his fingertips graze the smooth flesh of her legs as he moved the fabric down their length.

She was naked below him and he reveled in every inch of her skin, appreciating her with teeth, tongue, and hands alike. Claire felt as though she were putty in his hands - warm, weightless, and impossibly receptive to his touch.

But then she felt his hot breath against her inner thigh and she tensed up, bracing herself for what was to come. He laughed, puffing hot gusts of air against her moist entrance as he lifted her thighs to drape her legs over his shoulders.

“I hope you’ll forgive me.” 

No sooner than he finished the sentence did he bury his mouth in her, licking and sucking appreciatively as though he’d been starved. Claire howled at the sensation, hips bucking as the tip of his tongue teased at her swollen clit. Her hands grasped into fists, desperate to take hold of anything to keep her grounded to reality, and he slid his hand into hers, entwining their fingers together tightly.

Her orgasm came quickly - explosive and merciless, racking through her so powerfully that she let out a strangled sob. She felt as though every last bone had been wrenched from her body, mind fuzzy and still in the aftermath of desire.

Leon pulled away from her to trail kisses along her inner thigh, occasionally nipping at the tender flesh as she came to.

He slid a hand behind her neck to cradle her head as he hovered over her, using his other hand to position himself against her. She felt the head of him slide against her entrance, probing teasingly at her folds, and she took in a deep breath to prepare herself.

Leon drove into her and she enveloped his length greedily, taking in every last inch of him to the very base. He moaned at the feel of her, so hot and slick and impossibly tight around him, even after all this time…

“Fuck!” 

He gritted his teeth together as she clamped down around him, squeezing him like a vise even as he pistoned in and out of her. It didn’t take long for him to lose himself in her - her feel, her scent, her taste - and Leon quickly found himself coming undone, collapsing on top of her in a gasping, sweat-slicked heap.

Claire was right - she was no Ada Wong, that was for certain.

No, she was so much better.

He just hoped he’d remember such in the morning.


End file.
